


warm a loving heart

by madnessiseverything



Series: exandrian fables and fairytales [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, go figure little me enjoys stories of death huh, im evil but not that evil, no death here i promise though!!, not yet anyway, nott is jus a soft goblin yall i love her.... a lot, so it is new years day, the little match girl typical visions, this is my idea of a new years fic apparently, this story was oddly enough a favourite of mine as a child, time to write a mighty nein the little match girl au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: It is so incredibly, bitingly cold. Snow is falling out of the dark sky, and oh how dark it is now. The snowflakes, pretty in the air but so dangerous once they pile up on the ground. Bare, clawed feet pat across the white streets, leaving behind pitiful prints. The little goblin, hiding green skin and glowing eyes underneath a flimsy scarf, has long since lost the feeling in her feet. She thinks she’s still walking and though she cannot feel it, she can see it in the way houses pass by her. Oh the houses, she thinks, so beautifully lit, warm and filled with people, families, food, so much food tonight.or the one where Nott is cold and lights matches to escape.





	warm a loving heart

**Author's Note:**

> so on this beautiful new years day i am reminded of "the little match girl" by hans christian andersen and well... my fingers did the rest. kudos to the best enablers [sanne](http://outruneverything.tumblr.com/) and [quedda](https://queddadraw.tumblr.com/) woop woop thanks you two. and many thanks to [vodmod](https://vodmod.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing! <3  
> i hope you enjoy!

It is so incredibly, bitingly cold. Snow is falling out of the dark sky, and oh how dark it is now. The snowflakes, pretty in the air but so dangerous once they pile up on the ground. Bare, clawed feet pat across the white streets, leaving behind pitiful prints. The little goblin, hiding green skin and glowing eyes underneath a flimsy scarf, has long since lost the feeling in her feet. She thinks she’s still walking and though she cannot feel it, she can see it in the way houses pass by her. Oh the houses, she thinks, so beautifully lit, warm and filled with people, families, food, so much food tonight.

 

She clasps the boxes of matches she swiped from a grumpy vendor against her chest. Nobody wanted to buy any all day, rushing past her without a glance - or worse, spitting on her when her scarf revealed her skin and teeth. She wishes they had dropped coins at least, in their haste to get home to their beautiful, normal, warm families. But no coins, no food, no loving glances were sent a shivering goblin’s way on this night. So she shuffles along the streets, watching the last people enter glowing doors, those last few bringing with them the smell of wonderful meals she could only dream of. Doors slam shut and the smell leaves and she shivers. It was a special day, she recalls people talking about it in their rush, leaving her to pick up the scraps of conversations to figure out that today was a celebration. She does not know of what, but the sounds of families laughing, of food being cooked and served, are enough for her to wish she could be a part of the celebrations.

 

She stumbles, her feet dragging and snow kicks up around her as a sharp wind cuts her down to the bone. A little rest, she says to herself, just a short one. There are no people on the streets, she can take a break. So she ducks into a small alley, house walls high above her head as she curls against the bricks. She tucks her feet beneath her and exhales slowly, staring at the swirls of her breath in the night air. Music reaches her ears and she flattens them against her skull, tugging on her scarf to try and fight the wind. How happy the people in this city seem to be, she muses, her teeth chattering in her skull, lips cracked and bleeding as her eyes drop down to the matches clutched against her chest.

 

She remembers the vendor lighting them to bring fire to his own lantern and her heart beats in her chest. Nobody wants to buy them tonight, she argues with herself. And she can steal coins tomorrow, tomorrow when people fill the streets anew. Yes, she can light a match, chase the warmth. Nobody will stop her, not in this little alley, not when they are with their families and inside their glowing homes. With numb fingers, she opens the box, careful not to empty it accidentally with how much her hands tremble. She takes out a match and strikes it against the wall, the sound so loud and good in her freezing ears.

 

The match is beautiful, she thinks. It’s a small, dancing flame, so bright and oh, so warm. She places the matchbox in her lap and raises her other hand. It is warm and for but a moment she thinks she is sitting in front of a fireplace, bright and beautiful. The fire dances and she reaches out, wishing for nothing more than the fire to warm her cold limbs. But the fire vanishes before she can get closer. The match in her hand is burned down, blackened and crumbling in her fingers and she hears a small whine escape her own throat.

 

Quickly, she reaches for another match and strikes it. The flame illuminates the grey stones in front of her, before they seem to be moved as if with magic. The bricks break away, showing her a bright room with a table filled with steaming food. She can see vegetables, distributed and so colorful. She can see brown liquid, filling a small bowl. She can see meat, a bird roasted whole, beautiful and brown. Her mouth waters and she wants to sink her teeth into the bird, wants to tear at it and fill her empty stomach to the brim. As if hearing her request, the bird seems to leap off of the table towards her. She leans forward. The scene suddenly disappears and she stares down at the second burned down match. She wants to curse them, for giving her all these beautiful visions but taking them away so fast. She picks another match and strikes it against the wall, eyes looking around for the next scene.

 

She is sitting in a room, lit with many candles, so bright and warm. A fire crackles next to her and a table surrounded by many people fills her view. They are colorful, she notices. Purple, pink, blue, grey, green, red… she wants to go over to them, wants to join in as they start laughing. They seem so close, arms looped around one another. They look warm. She wants to be warm. The red one looks her way and his face does not twist in a sneer, she notices. He smiles, bright and warm and oh, she thinks. Is that the love those mothers in the streets talk of when they talk about all their families? She thinks it might be when more colorful faces turn her way and laugh, but not at her, no, laugh and beckon her over. She wants to move but before she can get her feet under her, the bricks and the cold and the alley return and the match falls from her shaking fingers. She balls her fist and beats against the wall, feels her throat close up. She can taste metal from her cracked lips and she just wants to be warm. Fumbling for another match she strikes the wall one more time, begging for the colorful people to return to her.

 

The match runs alongside the wall and the red man is back, smiling down at her. He is so bright, she thinks and cannot stop herself from staring up at him. His smile is so warm. He is closer now, standing only mere feet away, one of his hands reaching down and she wants to grab it so desperately. “Oh but you’re going to disappear,” she cries instead, her hand digging into the matchbox again. “You are so warm but you will leave soon and take all the light and warmth with you, I know it.” Her hands have long lost all her feeling but she thinks she has grabbed most of the matches. “Please don’t leave,” she begs and strikes the remaining matches against the wall. The red man is so, so bright now. Behind him a blue woman comes into view, her face filled with so much of that love. Matches burn and they are so warm, so close. She hopes they will take her with them to the place they disappear to. She thinks the other colorful people will be there and maybe the food will be there too. And the fire, so warm, so comforting.

 

They don’t respond to her pleas, but their hands reach towards her and she dares to reach back, fingers brushing against theirs. She feels warm now, she manages to think. It feels like she might be flying, staring at these people who do not seem to flinch at her appearance. She lets them carry her away, eyes closing as the warmth envelops her.

 

-

 

_“Jester, come quick!”_   
  
_“Caleb, what- Oh no! Oh, we have to help!”_   
  
_“The poor thing looks near frozen to death.”_   
  
_“Look at the matches. She was trying to stay warm.”_   
  
_“Caduceus has the fire going already, we need to get her inside and warm her up!”_   
_  
“Come, help me. I do not want to hurt her.”_

_“We need blankets! Gods, how long was she out there?”_

_“There we go, that’s good. I’m going to make tea for when she wakes up.”_   
  
_“I am glad we found her when we did.”_   
  
_“She looks so small.”_   
_  
“We will make sure she is alright.”_

_“It’s okay, little one. We will take care of you, pinky promise!”_

  


**Author's Note:**

> listen i have many emotions and am more than ready to talk about them and these beautiful characters over on [my cr tumblr](https://nottanothercritter.tumblr.com/) or [cr twitter](https://twitter.com/nottanycritter). hope you had a good start into the new year <3


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